I have recently joined a group of fellow people with kidney issues, several of us have had dialasis. This poem was shared in the group and I wanted to share it with you all. As a four year old I had this three times a week I am glad I don’t remeber a lot of it otherwise I think I would have nightmares. So here it is.
Dialysis by Kait
If life is for the living then why am I spending it dying?
I live my life day to day wondering will it ever go away?
As I’m hooked to a machine for a chance at another day, cleaning, filtering away any chance I have of living normally again.
I wake up in pain as I run to the bathroom, the sickness in my stomach taking hold, hugging the toilet who at times seems my only friend for the ones I have would never understand the comfort I seek in the porcelain touch.
Hundreds of pills I take that were promised but failed to work, but the hardest pill to swallow is that I am a remnant.
A remnant of the girl I used to be, that happy, carefree girl who didn’t have to watch the clock for medication.
The girl who could walk around a supermarket without almost collapsing because years of steroid treatment has destroyed her legs.
The girl who once woke up loving life.
Now she wakes wondering will the marks that destroyed her body ever leave, the damage done by the drugs be repaired. Will she ever be able to walk unsupported down the isle to the one who promised no matter what he’d never leave the fragile shell she’s become.
Every day I wake should be a blessing but instead it’s a cursed reminder that my body is no temple, it is battered and bruised beyond the promised repair.
The sickness and the pain I feel is nothing compared to the ache my family feels as they try to understand and I try to explain what I feel but I cannot.
This pill I take.
This pill cannot be washed down with a glass of water.
It cannot be cleaned, filtered by a machine.
If life is spent dying, then why am I so desperately trying to spend it living?
Did you learn something new today? Let me know in the comments.